


Wake Up Call

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets, part ii. [52]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Episode Related, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Making Out, Sharing a Bed, Shyan Scavenger Hunt, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 23:26:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15651096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: Despite how it might look to anyone who stuck their head in, Ryan didn’t plan on waking up half-sprawled on top of Shane.It’s just that the bed at the Lizzie Borden house is so damnsmall.





	Wake Up Call

**Author's Note:**

> written for the August edition of the [Shyan Scavenger Hunt](https://shyanscavengerhunt.tumblr.com/), for the prompt "size kink" (it's a slightly subtle kink, but it's definitely there).
> 
> this also totally works for the prompt "sleepy morning kisses that accidentally turn intense" from [this](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/post/170288406393/tickatocka-some-fun-sex-tropes-laughing-during) list, which I am slowly making my way through.

Despite how it might look to anyone who stuck their head in, Ryan didn’t plan on waking up half-sprawled on top of Shane, with his head cushioned on Shane’s chest and the sound of Shane’s heart beating underneath his ear.

Not that he minds waking up in such a position, but he _didn’t_ plan it. It’s just that the bed at the Lizzie Borden house is so damn _small_. Even sprawled over Shane, it feels like the edge of the bed is directly at his back, like all it would take to fall off is to shift a few inches. When he gains enough energy to turn his head and look back over his shoulder, he discovers that his pillow is already on the floor, tossed there sometime during the night. Their blanket (they’d only needed the one - if there’s one thing Ryan can definitively say about the house, it’s that they keep the radiator in peak working condition) is lumped at the foot of the bed, just barely covering Shane’s shins. One of Shane’s arms is loosely draped around Ryan’s shoulders, while the other is stretched out and his hand is dangling over the edge of the mattress, floating in free air at an angle that makes Ryan wince.

He’s complained about the size of his own bed more than a few times since he started dating Shane, but _this_ makes his mattress look like a California king.

Carefully, so that he doesn’t wake Shane up, he stretches his legs out and yawns, feeling surprisingly well-rested, despite the fact that he spent hours tossing and turning. They should probably start packing up soon; while his alarm hasn’t gone off yet, getting up early would give them more time to film the outro, maybe get some extra b-roll footage as a bonus. But that prospect isn’t enough to make him move away from the warmth of Shane’s body, from the soothing thrum of his heartbeat and the weight of his arm around Ryan’s shoulders. The amount of time they actually get to spend together, just the two of them, where they don’t have to be _on_ for the camera, is far lower than Ryan likes, and he’s damn well going to soak up every moment that he can.

Besides, he thinks as he settles back into the mattress, slings one arm over the narrow line of Shane’s waist and closes his eyes, ten more minutes won’t do any harm.

&.

When he swims back into consciousness, the first thing he notices is that their positions have somehow become reversed. He’s dangerously close to the edge of the bed, and Shane is lying nearly on top of him. His breath is brushing over the side of Ryan’s throat with each exhale, so gently that it almost tickles, and when he stirs a little, his morning wood presses into the side of Ryan’s thigh.

Which is what clues Ryan into the fact that he’s _also_ hard.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to be worried about the fact that the camera at the end of the bed is catching all of this; right from the get-go, he’s had first dibs on going through the footage, not only so he can catch any potential supernatural visitors, but also so that he can prevent this exact kind of thing from potentially going viral. But their alarm is bound to go off any minute, and the sooner Ryan gets up, the sooner he can concentrate on something else besides his dick, something unrelated to all the spots where Shane is pressing against him, the way he so easily _covers_ Ryan, like a damn blanket or something.

Back at the beginning, when they’d still been trying to figure things out, before Ryan had fully gotten his head out of his own ass and realized he was drastically overthinking how difficult things had to be, he’d tried to deny that he had a _thing_ for that, a thing for the ease with which Shane’s huge hands held him down, how he’d made Ryan feel small even though Ryan could literally bench-press him. 

Thankfully, he hadn’t managed to stay in denial very long, and admitting to himself how much he liked it had led to some very fucking fantastic nights. Now, however, when he should be getting up, the _thing_ is more inconvenient than welcome.

For a second, he thinks that maybe he’ll be able to slide out from underneath Shane without waking him up. However, as soon as he starts inching towards the edge of the bed, Shane stirs and buries a wordless mumble into the side of Ryan’s neck. After a moment, he fully rolls on top of him, and even though Ryan tries to distract himself by concentrating on the sunlight coming through the sheer curtains, the beer cans on the nightstand they need to recycle, the hideous floral wallpaper, none of it works. Even though he’s barely awake himself, his dick is too interested in how Shane is draped atop him for Ryan to focus on anything else.

“Mornin’,” Shane rasps, propping himself up on his elbows so that they’re nearly nose to nose. His hair is a mess of spikes and flyaways, and his eyes are blurry with sleep that he’s yet to blink out. He looks younger, softer around the edges, and Ryan could wake up to this every day and not get tired of it.

(The whole morning breath thing might get old eventually, but still, there are worse things to wake up to.) 

“’Bout time you woke up,” Ryan says, dropping his hand to the plane of Shane’s back. “Been bored out of my mind over here.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to Lizzie if you were so bored?”

“Didn’t wanna say something wrong and end up with an axe in my noggin.”

“Fair point.” Shane twists his head to the side and buries a yawn into his own shoulder. When he turns back, he presses his mouth to the top of Ryan’s cheek, just underneath his eye. “We should probably pack up, shouldn’t we?” He follows the question with another kiss, slightly lower, and it takes most of Ryan’s willpower not to twist his head so that he can catch the next one on his mouth.

“Probably. Unless we want Teej to yell at us when he gets here.” Shane mock-shudders and presses another kiss to Ryan’s jaw.

“We could add that footage to the episode. Give the viewers a good scare.” His breath is warm against Ryan’s skin, and Ryan can feel the firm pressure of Shane’s teeth behind his lips, like a promise or something to look forward to. Trying to keep his breathing steady, he slides his hand down Shane’s back to the dip of his spine, exposed where his t-shirt has bunched up around his waist, and drags his fingers through the fine, downy hair there.

“We _could_ do that, if we wanted to disappear and never be found,” he says, instinctively tilting his head back so that Shane has easier access to his neck, access that he immediately takes full advantage of. 

“Series finale of Unsolved could be our mysterious disappearance. Brent can host. It’ll be great.” There’s a distinct unsteadiness to Shane’s voice that makes Ryan’s cock twitch, and he arches up into the line of Shane’s thigh for some relief as he tries to formulate some kind of snappy comment, a way to continue the bit. Nothing comes to mind; maybe it’s because there’s still sleep playing at the edges of his mind, slowing his thoughts down, but he suspects it’s mainly due to Shane’s presence, how he’s easily touching every inch of Ryan, how he’s carefully worrying the skin at the base of his neck with his teeth, not hard enough to leave a hickey but hard enough to sting. 

So instead of saying something stupid which Shane will undoubtedly just laugh at him for, he threads his free hand into Shane’s tousled hair and tugs him up into a proper kiss. Shane groans as he sinks into it, and his stupidly long fingers trail down Ryan’s sides and slide underneath his shirt. They skim over the bare skin stretched over his hips before they go further and curve around the base of his ribs and splay wide. Ryan arches up into the firm pressure of Shane’s broad palms and hooks one ankle around the back of Shane’s leg so that he has more leverage to grind up against his thigh. Shane presses back against him, and the mattress squeaks alarmingly loud in response.

He is _beyond_ glad that none of the crew stayed overnight, because there’s no way either of them, even Shane with his remarkable capacity for bullshit, could explain that sound away as the house settling.

“We should pack,” Ryan says once they’ve broken apart from each other to breathe. Really, it’s the last thing in the world he wants to do, but at least by putting the suggestion forth, he’s covered his bases. He can say that he _tried_ to steer them on the right path.

“Probably,” Shane agrees before he dives right back in, and Ryan goes right along with him.

Within a few minutes, it feels like Ryan is burning up from the inside out, both because the sunlight filtering in is starting to carry some warmth on it and because he’s firmly stuck between the heat of Shane’s body and the mattress. It should feel suffocating, should feel like something he needs to claw free of, but truthfully, it’s almost _soothing_ , in a way that probably says something weird about him.

Then again, he hunts ghosts and demons and explores murder houses for a living - his life passed the weirdness point of no return long ago.

Once he’s pushed Shane’s shirt up to the top of his ribs, he lets his fingers wander over the miles of skin at his disposal, scratches his blunt nails in parallel to the length of Shane’s spine and digs them into the slight dimples just above the waistband of his sweatpants. Shane’s hands are caught between them, limited in their movement, but he more than makes up for it with the wanderings of his mouth down Ryan’s neck. When he sinks his teeth into the base of Ryan’s throat, the sting goes straight to Ryan’s dick, and he hisses through his teeth as he presses his hips back up again. 

He could come like this, without either of them taking off any more of their clothes. He could come just from Shane’s weight pressing down on him, from the steady pressure of his thigh against Ryan’s dick and his teeth scraping against his skin. Objectively, he knows that he’d probably regret it in the aftermath, when they had to try and clean themselves up afterwards in the tiny bathroom and film the outro without looking like they just had sex, but that thought is so far removed from how he feels in the here and now that it’s almost not worth thinking about.

He hitches one of his legs up around Shane’s waist and digs his heel into the back of Shane’s thigh, so that he can pull him even closer. This time, when Shane shudders, there’s nothing mocking about it, nor is there anything mocking about the way he groans against Ryan’s mouth.

“Fuck, Ry.” He pulls one hand out from underneath Ryan’s shirt and wraps it tightly around his thigh. “You wanna keep going?”

“If you stop, I’ll kill you,” Ryan pants, rolling his hips up and tugging at Shane’s hair. Shane rolls his eyes.

“Always with the death threats,” he murmurs, almost sounding _fond_ , before he leans back in, eyes closing for a kiss.

Before their mouths can meet again, the bedroom door rattles in its frame as a fist pounds on it. 

“You two plan on getting out of bed anytime soon?” TJ asks on the other side of the wood. “We _do_ have a flight to catch this afternoon.”

Ryan groans and, even though it pains him to move away when Shane’s mouth is _right fucking there_ , he drops his head back against the pillow.

“Yeah, just give us a minute,” he answers. 

After a pause, he hears TJ mutter something indecipherable, followed by, “I can’t believe you guys had sex in a murder house.”

“We didn’t get that far, thanks to you,” Shane retorts, but TJ’s heavy footsteps are already retreating down the hallway, and Ryan knows that they aren’t going to hear the end of this for at least a week. Possibly a month, depending on how vindictive TJ is feeling.

“Well, this is going to be a fun day,” he says, reluctantly sliding his leg away from Shane’s waist. Shane chuckles.

“Maybe we’ll get footage of TJ killing us after all. Or Lizzie. Sorry. Our bad,” he says to thin air, and Ryan laughs as he absently reaches up to push a few loose strands of Shane’s hair away from his face.

“I don’t think she knows what ‘our bad’ means.” Before Shane can go off on another tangent, start spewing out old-timey euphemisms for _we’re sorry_ , Ryan leans up and kisses him again. “But I hope you know that we’re finishing what we started once we get back home.”

“Yeah?” Shane leans down to mouth at Ryan’s jaw. “Is that a promise?”

Ryan shivers and momentarily thinks about pulling Shane back in, but the thought of TJ’s wrath if they’re delayed any further is enough to make him simply nod.

“I promise. Now get off the hell off me before we get murdered.”

Shane’s laugh brushes against Ryan’s mouth as he leans back.

“Alright. I’ll be good, I swear.”

(They keep their hands to themselves while they finish packing, while they clean the room up, remake the bed and gather up their beer cans from the night before, but one quick kiss on the landing before they head downstairs turns into a second. And then a third. And then Ryan’s hand starts gravitating towards Shane’s back again, intent on drifting up underneath his layers.

Before he can get that far, TJ yells up from the bottom of the stairs.

“I swear to God, if I have to come up there again...”

The sentence remains unfinished, but the unspoken threat is more than enough to get Ryan moving away from Shane and down the stairs fast enough that he nearly trips.)

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
